LGC NEWS

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February 2000

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Contents


Dates for your Diary

AGM: Sunday 30th April

Hus Bos: Saturday 27th May To Sunday 4th June

Pocklington: Saturday 19th to Monday 28th August

Portmoak: Saturday 30th Sep to Saturday 7th October

Annual Dinner: Friday 3rd November


Situations Vacant

Alan D.

timechange.jpg (89015 bytes) Yes, think its time for a change….

Wanted: Secretary

As most of you will already be aware, I will shortly be moving to pastures new. Basically a whole new life awaits - A new job, a new home, a new town, a new area and most importantly, a new gliding club; needless to say, it is only the latter, with all of the friends that go with it, that I am really sorry to be leaving behind. Of course the flip side is that the club needs a new secretary and this is the purpose of this article - to try and sell the role of the secretary to one or more individuals who feel they might want to take on one or more of the jobs that I'll be leaving vacant.

But first to answer some of the questions about my move. Towards the end of last year I took a long hard look at my life and realised that whilst generally ok, there was lots going on that was just not quite right and if I put my mind to it, I could improve upon. So after weighing up all of the options I decided that a change of job and location was the answer. Having arrived at the decision (a bit like a glider pilot turning his back on the airfield and setting off cross-country really) I set about the task of finding a new job in the new year. I polished up the CV, secured a few interviews and set off on a 900 mile three day round trip of five companies to see what was on offer. Big bucks was the answer! I settled on what looks like a fantastic company in Fareham, Hampshire - Telsis who didn't have to persuade me too much to accept a 75% pay rise! Telsis produce telecoms equipment for telephone exchanges and the mix of electronics and software looks right up my street.

I leave BAE SYSTEMS (née GEC Marine, née VSEL) on Friday March 10th and start with Telsis on Tuesday 21st. Fortunately the house sold very quickly (subject to contract) and I'll be moving into storage in the week between jobs. At least that's the plan.....

So what about the club? A few people have very kindly said that I'll be a hard act to follow - that might be partly true, but to my mind, no one is irreplaceable.

Below is a list (broken down into related areas) of the jobs that I've accumulated over the years, not all of which belong in the "traditional" secretary's "job spec", but which none the less need doing. The committee have decided that the most prudent course of action is for several people to take on a small number of these jobs each rather than dumping everything on one person.

So, if there is anything on this list that takes your fancy, then please feel free to have a word and I or anyone else in the know will be glad to tell you a bit more about it. I think over the years I have tailored pretty much all of these jobs into my style of doing things and I can see no reason why successors couldn't do the same. If you have any bright ideas about doing any of these jobs in a different way then don't be afraid to give it a go - no one is going to knock you for trying. Although I've grouped several tasks together, you wouldn't have to do everything under one "title" - just offer as much or as little as you feel you could comfortably do.

Secretary: • Acts as point of contact for BGA for "Admin" type mail. • Take and publish minutes for committee meetings (once per month) and AGM (once a year). • Write and send "club news" into S&G (every other month) • Occasionally, write letters at committee’s instruction. • Compile the annual returns to the BGA (Hours flown, launches, km flown, members, age profile) – see log sheets below.

Newsletter: (currently aim for six per year) Involves lots of arm-twisting to obtain publishable material then compiling (typing) and laying out the newsletter. Followed by printing (approx. 75 copies) and distribution (by hand at the club and the remainder by post – envelope stuffing and stamp licking!). • Re-format for publishing on the website – see website below. Peter Redshaw has very kindly offered to have the newsletter printed in the future, so that needn’t be hurdle to whoever takes on this job.

Log Sheets: Compile monthly summary of hours and launches for each glider. • Update Glider Log Books (monthly). • Publish data on website (monthly). – see website below. • Compile annual summary of hours and launches. • Photocopy all sheets and place in folder in clubhouse (weekly)

Ladder: Collect claimforms (by hand, from the bus or by e-mail). • Check and enter onto spreadsheet and print two copies - post one on the bus and one in the clubhouse. • Paste spreadsheet onto website. – See website • Convert claimforms from paper/e-mail into web format and publish on website. – See website

Website: Regulars: Update ladder and claimforms, Update Flying Stats, publish newsletter. • Occasional: Changed info (prices etc), Congratulations page. • Handle e-mail and comments forms from the site.

Merchandise: Keep bus stocked with stuff from BGA (wings, log books etc) • Order LGC clothes etc from time to time.

Social Sec’s Assistant: Bar "steward": serve, clean pipes, (wash up?) • Occasionally get supplies from Bookers / Brewery.

Other things: Photocopy blanks for log sheets/flying lists etc. • Data Protection contact.

And that's about it!

As I said at the beginning, if you'd like to know anything more about any of the above then do please have a word - your club needs you!

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone for their good wishes for the future. I fully intend to carry on gliding and flying (and if possible instructing and tugging) so it's very likely that I’ll be back at the Lakes for a weekend once in a while. I promise I’ll stay in touch.

Cheers
Alan.

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Social Sec Report

Lyn Martindale

The Christmas social seemed a quiet night, mainly as the Morecambe group had been out the previous evening, so were all tired. I think it's just been the way things have gone last year, so we have to be positive and make sure this year is good.

New year's eve went very well. We didn't arrive until late. I have to say the children, Keighley, Kirsty, Daniel, Megan, Amy, Katy and little Thomas were impeccably behaved, it was a pleasure to see them enjoying themselves especially at midnight watching the fireworks. There were other children there too whose names I don't know. The families all supplied the food between them and Andy Tebay ran the bar assisted by Dave North who also organised the fireworks.

I'm going to be away for two months so please organise your own food on the bus at the weekend.

I have booked the Beech Hill provisionally for Friday 3rd November, It has a pool etc. The dinner including disco will be £21 - £23, the feedback I've had so far suggests people don't mind as it's only once a year. Normally the meal costs £27, the reason I’ve had to book the Friday is if we book a minimum of 10 rooms we will get the room plus B&B for £39 per person, I think it's as much as £60 normally. If we booked the Saturday we had to book 20 rooms. The food is excellent, I have eaten there, it's more upmarket than the Grange or the Coote. All bedrooms overlook the lake.

Club Trips

I have booked Hus Bos for Spring Bank Holiday and also Portmoak the first week in October. For both please book your own accommodation. At Hus Bos it is normally a task weekend, but Pat has told me that so far no-one has volunteered to organise it, so who knows? John and I are off to Spain for June, anyone else interested please join us. The Pocklington two-seater competition is August 20th-27th. Anyone wishing to go please organise yourselves (I will be elsewhere that week.) Either in July or the first 2 weeks in August we quite fancy the idea of going from one club to another taking a week to 10 days over it. The idea is one person flies and the other takes the trailer, if it is a non-flying day then you still drive to the next club. It could be good fun and quite interesting to do. So once again come and join us.

I know I made a remark in a previous newsletter about gliding at Walney in Summer, however it was pointed out by Peter Redshaw that no club has the perfect gliding site all year round. I have to say I thoroughly enjoy flying at Walney. Over the past few months I've had some interesting and decent flights even though we haven't had mega wave flights over Christmas as we had a couple of years ago. It's still been good fun, just in the last five weeks out of ten flights five were over an hour in duration. In fact one was 2½ hours, two were 1½ hours, two were over an hour and two were just check flights to do spins etc so don't really count. To add to that the scenery has been magnificent and three flights were thermic! We certainly haven't missed many weekends when we were unable to fly. I just wanted to point out we do have an excellent club in many ways. I know John and I go away to other sites, however we have the opportunity to, variety is the spice of life. PR suggested people visit other sites, one does gain experience by doing so, also it's good fun. As I said you have fun at Walney as well.

I look forward to an excellent year in 2000. I wish you all the same, you only get out of life what you put into it, don't forget willing things to happen won't make them, only action does!

If anyone would like to take over as Soc. Sec please feel free, I'll step down at the AGM in April, I feel I'm away a lot. If not I don't mind doing a couple of socials a year however I don't want to in summer unless it's an impromptu barbecue or the like. I don't want to be stuck in a kitchen if I could be gliding.

All the best everyone
Lyn.

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Parish Notices

Membership fees are due on April 1st. Full membership is currently £100. It would be appreciated if these could be paid promptly as the club is a bit short of cash having spent a lot recently on the tug, the bowser and fuel. It would help to avoid an overdraft if you could consider paying it early or by increasing your credit balance. Talk to Peter Lewis and find out how the credit balance system works if you don’t already know.

The K21 has been entered in the Two-seater competition at Pocklington. So far no team has come forward to fly it. It wont be going as a club glider but a team of three or four individuals can hire it for the week. Consider getting a team together. Dave North, Peter Redshaw and crew are taking the Capstan. The IS28 will be staying at Walney.

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Reminiscences of an Ancient Glider Pilot

Alan Simmonds

I have been interested in aircraft for as long as I can remember and when I was twelve I started making and flying models. After a while, as a result of the war, rubber to drive models' propellers became unavailable, so attention switched to gliders.

As soon as I was old enough, that was 15¼, I joined the ATC and in August 1945, two of my friends, Mark and Michael, and I joined a gliding course. The school was based at a RAF maintenance depot, dating from the first world war, at Kidbrook, SE London. Flying took place on a long field between the rears of two rows of houses beyond which were two hospitals on one side and a cemetery on the other!

Equipment consisted of Slingsby Kirby Cadets, a modified Wild balloon winch and Beaverettes for cable and glider retrieves. The latter were small armoured cars, manufactured by the Standard Motor Company, with the top armour plating cut off. To facilitate glider retrieves, a bar projected from the side at the front of the vehicle, to which the glider was attached. A rear facing seat was provided for a cadet to hold the wing level.

Training was by the solo method - ground slides, low hops up to high hops. Forward and aft movement of the stick was restricted by two adjustable stops. For ground slides the stick was fixed. After we had proved we could keep the wings level, we were given very low hops, still with fore and aft movement of the stick fixed. We were entirely in the hands of the winch driver, who would lift the glider two or three feet and allow it to glide back to the ground. All went well until my friend Michael, who was smaller and lighter than the rest of us, rose much higher and came gliding past us standing by the winch at a height of about ten feet. Someone shouted "push the stick forward" which of course he could not do. Luckily the glider came to rest at the end of the field, a few feet from someone’s garden fence.

We were very fortunate in that the gliding school was under the command of John Furlong (of Ottfur release fame). He had the use of a Falcon III two seater. This had a parasol wing under which the pilots sat side by side. The wing had a marked sweep back with wires from the leading edge attached to the nose and struts. Flying over the SE London suburbs was quite an experience.

As we progressed we were given more and more fore and aft movement of the stick until we were flying a Cadet with no stops. The aim was to obtain our A Certificates which at that time required a flight of at least 30 seconds followed by a normal landing. The field near Kidbrook was only just long enough to do this, so many people were making flights of twenty-five or so seconds before achieving thirty. It therefore was with some relief that we heard that Sundays lessons were to take place at a redundant airfield at Gravesend.

On 9th September 1945 I made a flight of 38 seconds (followed by a normal landing) so obtaining my A Certificate.

In the normal way that would have been the end of my involvement with gliding in the ATC. However my friends and I had been bitten by the bug and when we learned that John Furlong was organising a course for ATC instructors, at Detling in Kent, the following Easter, Mark and I asked whether they would like help on the ground. This offer they were pleased to accept.

So Easter 1946 found us at Detling driving Beaverettes. As well as another flight in the Falcon III we were also given a flight in the Slingsby Gull II, a side by side two seater which had an enclosed cockpit and cantilever gull wing. My memory of that aircraft was that the controls were very heavy.

One day during the weekend, the wind was quite fresh from the South West. John Furlong thought he might be able to soar the Falcon III over the adjacent slope but after a couple of attempts he found he could not get sufficient height and had not enough penetration to reach it. However there was a dispersal area nearer the edge with an approach in line with the runway, but it was on the other side of the main Maidstone to Sittingbourne road. The plan was, when he was ready to be launched, to stop the traffic on the main road and when the Falcon was nearly over the winch (which was on a lorry chassis) it was to be driven across the road towards the slope into the dispersal area. When it was tried there was a short delay between the winch being stopped and it being driven forward. As a result, the occupants of the waiting cars were treated to a few choice words from above. By this time, the wind had dropped and he failed to soar.

At the end of the holiday, John Furlong gave us a lift back to Eltham, where we all lived. During the journey we learned that he was arranging instructors courses some weekends during the coming summer and that they needed someone to drive the van with their equipment from Kidbrook to Detling on Saturdays, returning on Sunday evenings, also to generally assist. He had found two willing volunteers. We were joined by friend Michael and we were rewarded with high-high hops in Cadets and an occasional flight in the Falcon.

In November that year, I commenced my national service in the army, since the RAF was over strength. Although I was stationed in Germany, I was not near a gliding centre, but during this time, my interest was kept alive by reading Soaring Flight by Terence Horsley and the occasional Sailplane and Glider.

In April 1950, just over a year after demob, I joined the Southdown Gliding Club. Their site was then at Friston on what had been a wartime emergency airfield above the Seven Sisters cliffs west of Beachy Head. The clubs fleet consisted of a T21B, two Tutors and a Cadet, later joined by an Olympia 2B. The annual subscription was £5.5s; I paid £4.4s as a country member. Flying fees were: Tutor 10s/- (50p) per hour, minimum 2s/6d (12½p); T21 15s/- (75p) per hour, minimum 3s/- (15p) and Olympia 18s/- (90p), minimum 3s/-. All included the launch which was by winch. After twenty instructional flights in the T21, I was given two medium hops in a Tutor and sent off on solo circuits.

 sevensisters.jpg (6751 bytes)The Seven Sisters looking towards Beachy Head

As we are well aware, close proximity to the sea more or less eliminates thermals, so nearly all soaring was done over the cliffs in South Westerly winds. In a suitable wind direction we could soar as far as Beachy Head to the east, which was 250 feet higher than the Sisters, and across Cuckmere Haven to Seaford Head to the west. The club also had the use of a small field on the top of the north facing slope of the Southdowns near Firle Beacon. (The club subsequently moved to a larger field there remaining until 1974 when they settled at Parham). When the wind was from the north-east we took the Tutors to Firle. Launch was by bungey and there was a convenient field at the bottom if we did not make it back to the top.

Incidentally I negotiated, on behalf of the club, the purchase of the bungey rope which we used from John Furlong for £5.

The club purchased an Olympia 2B in 1951 and the rule was that a pilot had to complete the five hours duration flight before he was promoted from the Tutors. After three attempts in Tutors, one of which was 3 hours 10 minutes at Firle ending with landing in the field at the bottom, the CFI took pity on me and I was allowed to fly the Olympia. Further, I was allowed to do my five hours in it, which I did in August 1952 easily in great comfort over the cliffs with an excursion to Beachy Head. Not very exacting!

There was a social side to gliding with annual BGA Balls at Londonderry House in Park Lane, when Doc Slater played tunes with bicycle bells and glasses of water. Members of the Southdown club joined the Surrey club members with parties at Friston, Redhill and Lasham. There were also lectures on meteorology at Imperial College and the social club, named after Robert Kronfield, in London.

Early in 1952, I was discussing, with another Southdown member, the World Gliding Championship which was to be held near Madrid the following July and we decided to go to see the competition. We both had motorcycles, but thought that his might not be reliable enough to make the journey, so we decided to both go on my three year old Triumph Twin. At that time, such a journey was considered to be quite an adventure, from which I am certain some people thought we would not return.

Being air minded, we crossed the channel by Silver City Airways. The Triumph, together with two cars, was loaded at Eastleigh (near Southampton) into a Bristol Freighter which took us to Cherbourg. Four days later we arrived in Madrid after covering 900 miles from Cherbourg. It was very interesting to get involved with the competition and meet some of the prominent people in gliding, especially as Philip Wells won the championship. After Madrid, we visited the gliding centre at Monflorite on the edge of the Pyrenees, but all their gliders were still at Madrid. We then went on to Sitges on the Mediterranean coast where there were then only two hotels! Our currency allowance was the equivalent of £25 each, plus £5 for the motorcycle. We were away for 17 days covering 2,800 miles and we returned with the equivalent of a few pence in our pockets.

In May 1953, I thought I would extend my flying experience by joining the flying club which operated from the then grass field at Gatwick. This suited me very well as I could fly in the evening by leaving work early and taking a train from London Bridge to Gatwick station. After a few flights in their Auster, I had some solo circuits, also two dual cross country flights which gave me some navigation and map-reading experience.

Members of the Southdown club used to take a Tutor and the Olympia to Long Mynd for two weeks in the summer. During the 1953 visit some of us tried flying the Olympia in cloud. We flew out over the valley, contacted cloud lift and kept circling using the turn and slip. When things looked as if they were getting out of hand, we would open brakes and descend to below cloud base. A couple of weeks later, I was able to make good use of this practice. I was launched at Lasham by car tow and soon found fairly strong lift. As I neared cloud base, I switched on the turn and slip and settled down to a wider circle. I entered cloud at 3,700 feet. The lift was so smooth that little control movement was required, in fact the Olympia seemed to fly itself. However at 5,800 feet, either I was loosing concentration or the air was not so smooth, probably a little of each, the airspeed began to fluctuate between 40 and 60 knots. I was chasing the ASI, so I decided it was time to leave the cloud. I managed to straighten up and let the speed settle. I then found I was heading north, but my intended course was south-east, so when I reached a hole in the cloud, I turned round and flew back into it through the lift and out on the south side. I will never forget the moment when I went from the gloom of the cloud into bright sunlight. Behind me to right and left was a brilliant wall of cloud (which I now realise was a sea-breeze front). Ahead the air was clear with a fine view to the distant South Coast. I turned east-south-east wondering what chance there was of finding further lift. Returning to the lift under the cloud was not an option, because it was moving north towards the London TMA. I then saw two small clouds ahead but when I arrived under them, they were desolving and I gained only 300 feet. I soon began looking for a suitable place to land and saw a fairly long field of grass which from the lie of the land appeared to slope slightly uphill in the right direction. I still had plenty of height above the ground, so I continued on course for about 3 miles, but, since I found neither lift nor a better field, I returned and landed safely 16 miles from Lasham. At least I had comfortably exceeded Silver C height gain.

The visits to Long Mynd and Lasham in 1954 and 1955 were not blessed with good weather. In 1956 I married and in 1957 we bought a new bungalow surrounded by a fairly large very rough piece of land which was to be made into a garden. Like so many, I gave up gliding.

In 1976 I decided to return to gliding. I took a five day course at Lasham and then rejoined the Southdown club, which was now at Parham; 70 miles and nearly two hours journey from home. During the following three years, I had some good soaring flights but never completed all the qualifying flights for the Bronze certificate within 12 months. Then our daughter obtained a place at the Saturday morning music school at Maidstone, 30 miles away, leaving Sunday only to be shared between family and gliding. As a result, my visits to the club became more infrequent and coupled with a period of unfavourable weather I became so frustrated that I decided to give up gliding again.

After I retired, we came to live in the Lake District and in 1997, I joined the Bowland Forest Gliding club, resoloing in September of that year. However as a result of their airfield becoming waterlogged, I did not fly again until March the following year and during that summer flying was interrupted on several occasions for the same reason. I could see that the problem would continue during the coming winter, so I joined the Lakes Club in September 1998. Living near Kendal, being a member of the two clubs suits me very well, since their operations are complimentary.

I must now make a determined effort to obtain my Bronze and cross-country endorsement, so that I can complete my Silver C, 50 years after doing the five hours duration.

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Instrument Flying

Rip Pearson

We are well into that time of the year during which flight by sole reference to instruments becomes necessary, just ask Roger or Lyn. With this in mind, I thought the following article, plagiarised from another publication, would be of interest. You see, it is all to do with cats, ducks and buttered toast.

Since everyone knows that cats always land with their feet down, just carry a cat in a cage with you when you fly. If you get disoriented, shake the cage and see which way the cat lands. Now, I’m allergic to cats, so I use buttered toast. We all know that a slice of buttered toast always falls buttered side down when dropped, what’s more they don’t need a litter box. Keeping the buttered slice of toast in a bag helps to keep the butter off the inside of the canopy – stay clean. However, it is really important to have redundancy to be absolutely safe, one has only to peruse the accident summaries to realise that a failure of one instrument can create confusion and spatial disorientation. In these situations, backup instruments, preferably from a completely different power source, are critical. This is why I use the buttered toast strapped to the back of a cat strategy. In this configuration, you are both pussy powered and flour powered. If the toast is applied correctly, no matter which way the cat is tossed, it always points towards the earth, alive or dead. This is basic science and a well known fact.

Please be extremely careful when using the cat and buttered toast method. If the toast is strapped to the cat’s back with the buttered side facing up (away from the cat’s fur) the cat/toast combination will just spin round and round defying gravity, as both forces of nature are trying to accomplish the same end. This is proven in Newton’s little known Furball and Churn theorem and was also the first design of our modern gyros.

At first I had problems attaching the toast to the cat, as the toast would not stick to dirty fur. To remedy the situation, I had to give my cat a bath first: Most would say that giving your cat a bath is a bad idea. I must say, I gave mine a bath the other night and she really enjoyed it, so don’t hesitate to give yours a bath before installation of the toast; I did get some hair on my tongue though.

While adding a cat instrument is good, the best method includes both a cat and a duck.

The Cat and Duck Method Of Instrument Flying

1. Place a live cat on the cockpit floor. Because a cat always remains upright, it can be used instead of the artificial horizon, simply watch which way the cat leans to determine which wing is low, and if so, which one.

2. The duck is used to assist the descent on instruments in cloud, it is only necessary to hurl it out of the glider and follow it to the ground.

Limitations to the Cat and Duck Method

1. Get a wide awake cat. Most cats don’t want to stand up at all. It may be necessary to carry a small dog in the cockpit to make the cat pay attention.

2. Make sure your cat is clean. Dirty cats spend all their time washing. Trying to follow a washing cat usually results in a snap roll followed by an inverted spin.

3. Use an old cat. Young cats still have many of their nine lives left, but an old cat has just as much to lose as you do and will be more dependable.

4. Avoid cowardly ducks. If the duck discovers you are using the cat to keep the wings level, it may refuse to leave without it. Ducks are no better in cloud than you are.

5. Make sure your duck has good eyesight. Near sighted ducks may fail to realise they are on the gauges and go flailing off into Black Combe or the slag bank. Very near sighted ducks may not realise they have been thrown from the glider and will descend to the ground in a sitting position. This is very difficult to follow.

6. Use land loving ducks. It is very discouraging to break out and find yourselves over the estuary, especially if there are duck hunters about. Duck hunters suffer from temporary insanity after sitting in freezing hides and will shoot at anything that flies.

7. Finally, choose your duck carefully, bone up on your waterfowl recognition, it’s easy to confuse ducks with geese because many waterfowl look alike. Geese are competent instrument fliers, but they seldom go where you want them to. If your duck sets off for Canada, you can be sure you’ve been given the goose.

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Energy Absorbing Foam

Dave North

Did you know that it’s a BGA recommendation to have at least half an inch, but preferably one inch of energy absorbing foam in the seat of a glider?

Did you also know that it can make the difference, in the unfortunate event of an accident, between having 1000 G’s shoved up your spine, which would probably snap, and 300 G’s which would probably leave you with severe bruising.

Most of the club gliders have this fitted and steps will be taken to ensure that the rest have.

Have the private owners?

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Gliding Records

Alan Dennis

Class /
Category
Type of Record Performance
(Date)
Course / Location Pilot Glider Previous Record
15m – Feminine Distance over a triangular course 1 012 km
(01.12.1999)
Tocumwal Aerodrome, NSW (Australia) - Galong - Tottenham and return Hana ZEJDOVA (Czech Republic) PZL-Bielsko SZD-55 859.29 km (17.01.99 - Hana ZEJDOVA, Czech Republic)
15m – Feminine Speed over a triangular course of 1000 km 116.18 km/h
(01.12.1999)
Tocumwal Aerodrome, NSW (Australia) - Galong - Tottenham and return Hana ZEJDOVA (Czech Republic) PZL-Bielsko SZD-55 NEW
Open – General Free Distance 1 546.57 km
(16.12.1999)
Chapelco, Airport of San Martin de los Andes (Argentina) Klaus OHLMANN (Germany) Stemme VT S10 1 460.80 km (25.04.72 - Hans Werner GROSSE, Germany)
Open – Feminine Speed over a triangular course of 300 km 153.85 km/h
(03.01.2000)
Tocumwal Aerodrome, NSW (Australia) Pamela KURSTJENS-HAWKINS (UK) Schempp-Hirth Nimbus 4 T 143.90 km/h (26.12.90 - Susan Patricia BEATTY, South Africa)
Open – General Free out-and-return distance 1412 km
(29.12.1999)
Chapelco - Lago Buenos Aires (Argentina) Klaus OHLMANN (Germany) Stemme VT S10 1261.65 km (18.04.97 - John F. GOOD, USA)
15m – General Speed over an out-and-return course of 500 km 205.43 km/h
(11.01.2000)
California City, CA (USA) Martin J. EILER (USA) Schempp-Hirth Discus B new
World - General Speed over a triangular course of 100 km 110.14 km/h
(17.02.2000)
Bordertown - Bunns Springs - Blue Hills - Bordertown (Australia) Pawel FRACKOWIAK (Poland) PW-5 103.71 km/h (28.08.98 - Patrick L. TUCKEY, USA)
15m - Feminine Speed over a triangular course of 750 km 132.52 km/h
(17.02.2000)
Tocumwal aerodrome, NSW - Oxley - Beulah - Tocumwal (Australia) Hana ZEJDOVA (Czech Republic) Schempp-Hirth Ventus A 119.79 km/h (22.12.98 - Angelika MACHINEK, Germany)

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Per Ardua Ad Astra    Rip Pearson

First Instalment | Second Instalment | Third Instalment | Fourth Instalment | Fifth Instalment | Sixth Instalment | Seventh Instalment | Eigth Instalment | Ninth Instalment | Tenth Instalment 

Half way through my squadron tour at Church Fenton I had married a Bridlington girl who I met whilst touring the local fleshpots when I was at Driffield. Now, some four years later, I disembarked at Liverpool with my wife and a seven week old baby. The significance of this statement in a story about RAF life is about to be revealed.

Disembarkation leave was very generous, about seven weeks as I recall and, needless to say, both sets of parents and all relatives were anxious to see the new baby daughter. I decided to visit Bridlington first and presented my small family, with some pride, to an assembled throng in my parents-in-law's lounge. One of the visitors was a close friend of my mother-in-law and lived a short distance up the road.

During the first few months of my marriage my wife had continued to live with her parents and I commuted between Bridlington and Church Fenton on the motorcycle on the days off. To ride the sixty miles back to camp and arrive in time for met. briefing at 0830 meant an early start, and it was quickly made apparent that starting the bike in the drive beneath mother's bedroom window at 0630 was not appreciated. I could understand why. Any motorcyclist from that era will recall the routine of numerous kick-starts, spits back through the carburettor, fire up, catch it, throttle up to keep it going, quick warm up. Ride off. Cold and damp mornings prolonged the agony. In order to keep mother-in-law sweet tempered, I pushed the bike up the road, well clear of the house, and started it there, which solved the problem.

Mothers’ friend, Betty, was leaning over the carrycot cooing at the baby when a motorcycle blared past the window, throttle wide, no silencer, making a hell of a din. "Do you get a lot of that?" I asked mother. Betty answered. "Aye" she said, "they use this road like a racetrack, ah'v complained but nowt gets dun, in fact ah think it's got wuss. It was bad muff abowt fower year ago. lvry week, sumtime twice a week, sumbody started a damned moater bike at 'aff past six in't mawnin reet under mah bedroom winder. B'it time ah'd gitten ter't winder it'd gone but if ah'd iver manijed to catch the bugger ah'd'v rung his bloody neck". "Did you ever find out who it was?" I asked innocently. "Now" said Betty, "after a while it stopped, it's bin peaceful 'til this lot started" I exchanged glances with my mother-in-law and turned away to hide a grin. "Maybe he sold his bike and bought an MG" I said. "Aye, mebbe", said Betty, but she hadn't caught on.

The sword of Damocles hanging over my head at this time was the forthcoming interview at the Ministry of Defence which would determine my next posting. After two flying tours I knew that, as a general duties officer, I would be lined up for a ground tour and I anticipated this grim prospect with some foreboding. The thought of being a fighter controller in a radar station underground, or an air traffic controller did not appeal one bit; I presented myself for interview prepared for the worst.

The interviewing officer was brisk and to the point. "It's a ground tour for you" he said, "which of these do you fancy?" He produced a list of what to me were deadly boring ground jobs and my heart sank, the prospect of spending up to three years doing any of them was the epitome of doom and gloom. Hand wringing I turned on the histrionics and pathos, and whinged about only having had one squadron tour, then spending 2½ years target towing. I even managed to make my voice tremble. This dramatic performance was obviously having some effect because the officer picked up another file. "Can you fly a Firefly?" (a large piston engined fighter-bomber) "I can fly anything" I said, mentally hoping that there would be no record that I had pranged the last propeller driven aeroplane I had flown. "Fine" he said, still turning the pages of the file, "What about the Vampire?" My hours on the Vampire could be counted on one hand, but to hear me talk one could be excused for thinking I had vast experience and was some sort of expert flying Vampires. "This might Suit you better", he said, "How do you fancy being a staff pilot on Vampire night fighters at No2 Air Navigation School, Thorney Island?" I grabbed the chance with both hands, thanking my lucky stars that my interviewer was completely unaware of the full squadron commitment the Middle East target towing unit had had.

Thorney Island was a jewel in the crown of RAF stations. It was situated on the South Coast next to Hayling Island and was the home of No2 Air Navigation School. The trainee navigators were posted there direct from Initial Training School, where they had been taught the ground subjects necessary for them to become future RAF Officers, and assessed for leadership qualities. Thorney Island was their first flying experience and the course there lasted about a year, at the end of which, if suitable, they qualified for the navigator's brevet. Their flying started with the basic exercises on the Valetta, followed by more advanced navigation exercises on the Varsity. Both these aircraft were quite large twin engined machines powered by big radial piston engines. At the time, British European Airways (the forerunner of British Airways) was operating the Valetta as a passenger aircraft, calling it the Viking. The student navigators came to us on the Vampire flight for jet familiarisation and high level navigation exercises after several hours on the Valettas and Varsities. Sorties were flown both by day and by night.

The Vampire night fighter was quite a neat design and very small compared to anything the students had previously experienced. It had a wingspan of 38' and stood 6½feet off the ground. The crew of two sat side by side with the navigator stepped back about a foot. His electronic navigation equipment was more compact and advanced than that carried in the Valetta or Varsity and was by his left ear. In front of him at the right hand side of my panel were the cathode ray tubes he would use for interceptions. The panoramic view through the all round canopy was a revelation to him compared to seeing the world through a small porthole; also new was the silence and lack of vibration. Navigation exercises in the Vamp. were carried out between 35,000 and 43,000 feet where, on a clear day, you could see the length and breadth of the country. On a winter's day some of the views were breathtaking but the navs never looked out to appreciate them. It was irritating to me to be high over North Scotland on a beautiful day, with the South Coast and Thorney Island clearly visible some 400 miles away, to have a grunt given in response to my calling attention to these delights and to hear the clicking of knobs over studs. One particular incident comes to mind.

The first two flights the students did in the Vampire were pure familiarisation, designed to give him the experience of high altitude flying, the use of oxygen, the silence, the differences of the aircraft. We were high over London (no restrictions at high level in those days, commercial traffic didn't operate at 40,000feet), with the whole of the South Coast, the Thames Estuary and our turning point, North Foreland, clearly visible. My student was busy clicking away at his navigational box of tricks and taking not a blind bit of notice of the countryside around and below. I decided to prompt him to remind him that he should really be map reading "Where are we nav?" I said over the intercom. A rapid series of clicks followed, he still hadn't looked out "We're somewhere over The Wash", he replied. I looked around, making my head movement very exaggerated. Far away in the distance I could see the bulge of East Anglia and I gazed at it very pointedly for a few seconds "Are you sure?" I asked him, still looking pointedly to my left. The reply, coming from a student to his aircraft Captain, and assessing officer, astonished me. "Listen mate", he said "I'm the navigator of this aircraft and if I say we're over The Wash, we're over The Wash" I couldn't believe my ears. I snapped my head round to face him and our eyes locked, I honestly thought he was trying to be funny, but no, the eyes said it all, he was serious. He was also in line for a lesson. "Roger nav," I said, "I hadn't realised we were over The Wash, you'd better give me a diversion airfield quick because we haven't enough fuel to get back to Thorney Island from here. At this a very large chart was produced and unfolded across the width of the cockpit, completely blocking my vision. I waggled the stick a bit to rock the wings as if losing control and glared at him "What the hell do you think you're doing nav?" I said "I can't fly this thing if I can't see the instruments," at the same time I wrenched the offending chart clear. He went back to his clicking. I could tell by the rate of the clicks that he was beginning to get worried and decided to apply a bit of pressure "Come on, nav, what about this diversion airfield, we're desperately short of fuel, get you finger out for God's sake; you haven't given me a heading change yet, I'm turning west towards the nearest land" (We were still supposedly over The Wash).

The suburbs of East London were now spread below us, with the City dead ahead on the nose. After a few minutes I prodded him again. The naval air station at Ford (now an open prison) was clearly visible on our left. Ford was unmistakable because of the layout and colour of the runways Beyond was the South Coast, stretching as far as the eye could see. In the distance could be seen Thorney Island, Hayling Island, Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight. "There's an airfield down there on our left" I yelled at him, making my voice sound worried, "Where do you think it is?" For the first time he looked out, the land and sea features were unmistakable, "I don't know," he wailed, "I think it must be Horsham St Faith" Horsham, now Norwich airport, is located on the outskirts of the city, the nearest coast is a fair distance away and certainly not to the South of it, nor does it extend East West. "Horsham can't accept jets" I said, putting on my worried voice again, "find me another airfield". By now I was riding high and really piling on the pressure. I pretended to make a distress call "Mayday Mayday Mayday, this is ----," There was no way he could know the call was intercom only and not being transmitted. I went through the standard distress patter. Needless to say there was no reply and I pretended to repeat the call, - no answer. Hells bells," I said, "we've had a radio failure, that's all I need." By this time we were overhead Thorney at thirty odd thousand feet, my man was still madly clicking away and I pulled the throttle back to idle. The engine note died to a distant whine. Before he could appreciate the fact that it was idling I threw the aircraft into a steep turn and yelled "We've run out of fuel, there's an airfield below, whereabouts are we?" Silence prevailed. Thorney Island is absolutely unmistakable, the airfield takes up almost the whole of the island; on certain takeoffs the aircraft were straight over the sea. I thought "He's bound to catch on, all the station's aircraft are on the ground and we're the only place that operate them." In the meantime I had set the Vampire up for a flame out descent. These were a regular exercise and all pilots were highly proficient at them, we practised them often. He made no comment as we turned off the end of the runway after a dead stick landing, even when the engine "magically" increased RPM to taxi in to dispersal. As we came round the bend of the perimeter track and all our aircraft came into view he suddenly came to life. "That's amazing" he said, "all the other aircraft have diverted in here too" Needless to say he didn't make the grade.

Low flying exercises were exhilarating and were part of the training syllabus. The trick with a low flying navigation exercise is comprehensive pre-flight planning, accurate flying and timing, unmistakable features for en route checks and turning points, a good lookout and to think ahead, reading from ground to map. It was essential for the navs to use a topographical chart and map read. Each nav did two sorties, one at 240knots and one at 300 knots - round figures giving 4 and 5 nautical miles per minute respectively. Would they look out and read? Not on your life. All round the route one could hear the frantic clicking of knobs over studs as the ground flashed by and they got more and more lost. I said to my student one day in exasperation "Where do you think we are, nav?" A large built up area with a glint of wide expanses of water was dead ahead "We're approaching Winchester" he said, with all the brash confidence of an l8year old. "In that case," I said, "could you tell me what the Queen Elizabeth is doing sailing down Winchester High Street?" I pulled up to 1500 feet and overflew Southampton.

Tasking for the Vampire flight was not entirely committed to navigation exercises. I was a member of the station formation team and we put on displays at various locations throughout the year. Good formation flying results from many hours of "practise makes perfect" but is not difficult when you know how. You select a point on the lead aircraft and one on your own that gives the perfect position when the two are linked up and keep them in line, following the leaders every move, never taking your eyes off him whatever he does. Position is maintained using the flying controls and throttle. After a while you develop almost a sixth sense to anticipate relative movement and, as a result, corrections are very small. Nevertheless, it was a hot and sweaty business on bumpy days and we would rag one another unmercifully for untidy flying. Our training officer, the Vampire QFI (Qualified Flying Instructor), flew with us one day as a substitute and made a complete hash of the join up. Airbrakes out, throttled back, he slid inexorably past frantically trying to slow down I called him up on the radio, "Come back, Ted," I said, "all is forgiven". Ted's job as QFI was to fly with each pilot on a regular basis in the Vampire TII trainer and put him through the mill on procedures and emergencies both by day and by night. I once bet him a crate of beer that I could land the Vamp. at night and that he wouldn't know we had touched down. Eyes shut, Ted sat in the second seat whilst I pulled off an absolute greaser of a landing, inching down until the wheels touched. He admitted he hadn't felt the touchdown, but refused to pay because he said I'd taken up half the runway to do it. He sure as hell felt the next one, which I made sure rattled his teeth.

We practised hard for our Battle of Britain open days, during which we were tasked to destroy an "enemy" fort, using dive bombing, front gun and rocket attacks. The ground organisation was very comprehensive for these shows. Explosive charges were laid on the ground to simulate fantastic rocket or cannon explosives and the armourers did a fantastic job making them sound exactly like the real thing. On one of the rehearsals the "bombs" were detonated too soon, and as I flashed overhead the blast hit my aircraft with a tremendous thud and lifted me a good few feet, I even heard the "whoomp" as it went off. On completion of these attacks we had a fair crack of speed on and the drill was to pull up hard and high to get rid of the speed and keep within the airfield boundary, to please the spectators. The leader pulled up one day to find, right on the nose at a thousand feet, an Avro Anson droning overhead. The Anson pilot must have got the shock of his life when four Vampires streaked past him in a climbing bomb burst, two on each side. Apparently he was carrying the ashes of a deceased Air Commodore who had expressed the wish to be scattered over Thorney Island - trouble was, nobody else knew about it, and we advised him in no uncertain terms that it was nearly more than ashes that might have been scattered.

The set piece for these shows was worthy of amateur drama. The fort was a realistic mock up of plywood and paper large enough to conceal a group of fanatical tribesmen (the lads dressed in drag) whose object in life was to capture it and incarcerate a fair maiden (a reluctant volunteer in blond wig and drag), who just happened to spend her time commuting to and fro in a Landrover. The scene was set by the commentator over the public address system who, over a period of time during the show, built up a fair bit of tension which culminated in the "dervishes" attacking and sacking the fort. They then disappeared behind the facade, only to reappear with much whooping and blood curdling yells, accompanied by several rounds of blanks, when the unsuspecting fair maiden drove into the scene. Various unsuccessful attempts were made to effect a rescue but the fortress proved impregnable and the Vampires, which had taken off some 15 minutes earlier, were called in to flatten it. Our maiden was duly rescued, the dervishes came out with their hands up and the fort burned to the ground, much to the delight of the crowd.

Occasionally we were called upon to do Army liaison exercises on Salisbury Plain, again front gun and rocket attacks on soft targets and tanks. On one such exercise I was approached one day by a Signaller (Wireless Operator) from the Varsity squadron who had never flown in a jet before and would like the experience. During the pre-flight briefing I warned him that ground attacks and evasive manoeuvres were not ideal baptisms for jet fighter experience, there would be high "G" forces throughout the attacks, violent jinks to avoid ground fire and, once started, I wouldn't have time to supervise him - nor could I warn him of what was coming next as that all depended on what the situation and opportunities were as they were presented. His reply was very patronising, and to the effect that he had flown several thousand hours in different types of aircraft during his flying career, more hours, in fact, than I'd had cooked dinners, and that nothing I could say or do would convince him that flying in a Vampire was any different. On the way to Salisbury Plain he sat, happy as a sand boy, admiring the scenery and impressed by the silence. On the way back it was a different story. The exercise had gone as planned and, over a period of about fifteen minutes, the aircraft had dived, climbed, turned and jinked, all at high speed, and high "G". Front gun and rocket attacks are carried out in a forty five degrees dive which, to the uninitiated seems quite steep. The pullouts and evasive turns are at low level and high "G", the jinks are snap reversals of turn and steep angles of bank. I looked at my passenger for the first time as we levelled off to return to base after the last attack. He was a sorry sight. His head had dropped forward onto his chest with a seemingly incredible length of neck exposed. As the Vampire rocked gently in the slight turbulence, the head moved in sympathy, rolling from side to side. I thought his neck was broken and, with rising alarm, called him on the intercom. No reply. I reached across and switched his microphone on, silence - no breathing, nothing. "Are you all right?" I asked, feeling that it was a pretty unnecessary question. A low moan was the only response but at least I knew he was alive, if not exactly kicking. He remained comatose for the rest of the flight and I requested an ambulance to meet me in dispersal. The lads eased him out of the aircraft into a stretcher and he was driven off to the sick bay to recover. Some years later I was talking to an RAF Signaller who referred to this incident when he learned my name. He asked me if I was the pilot involved. Apparently on recovery my man said he never wanted to see a jet aeroplane again, especially and in particular if it was going to be flown by Rip Pearson. Ah well, you can't win them all!!

I had two hairy incidents during my Vampire tour. Both occurred on take off. Thorney Island had a public road crossing the airfield and a bus service commuted to and from the small village on the island at regular intervals. Traffic lights controlled traffic needing to cross the runways. On take off one day, with full internal fuel and overloads, I came over the slight rise in the runway to see the bus shoot the red light and head for the runway. My aircraft at this stage was just light on the wheels, going far too fast to stop but too slow to get airborne. The closing angles were inexorable, I was going to hit that bus; to attempt to pull the aeroplane off the ground before flying speed would have resulted in a stall and disaster; I was mentally screaming to the driver to stop, but he didn't. I resisted the temptation to lift off too soon and, at the last possible minute "felt" the aircraft into the air, raising the undercarriage as soon as we unstuck. Lord knows by what margin we cleared the top of that bus. To this day I remember the sight of a line of white faces staring out of the bus windows. When apprehended by the RAF Police and escorted to the control tower to be interviewed by SATCO (the Senior Air Traffic Control Officer) the driver was completely unabashed. He stated quite calmly that a runway crossing control was not legal, did not come under the Road Traffic Act and that he was quite entitled to cross an active runway against a red light. The fact that he almost killed twenty people in exercising his entitlement concerned him not at all. I couldn't decide whether he was half witted or stupid, either would be fitting.

We had a student nav. who was renowned for his superstition and went to great lengths to avoid being "at risk". Needless to say, the boys used to wind him up at every opportunity and my turn came on Friday 13th. He had already approached the Squadron Commander and asked to be taken off the flying programme - no dice, he was told to report sick if he felt unfit. Now he approached me, as his pilot, and asked if our flight authorisation could be renumbered 12A instead of 13. He got no sympathy or co-operation. I pointed out to him that not only was it Friday 13th and that we were No13 on the authorisation sheet, but also our aircraft No.WP238, added up to 13. Now get on with it and strap in.

The exercise was a high level cross country with diversion at any point selected by me to any suitable airfield. I chose RAF Valley, on Anglesey and we duly arrived at Valley where we refuelled to full tanks and overloads (wing drop tanks). Whilst we were refuelling, I reminded my nav that things hadn't gone badly up to then and that we only had one more leg to go if anything was going to happen.

Valley were using the short runway on that day, the end of which was only a few yards short of the sea. I was sniggering and chortling to myself so much at the thought of the discomfiture of the hapless soul in the right hand seat during the final doom-laden leg, that I forgot to select takeoff flap. We hurtled down the runway gathering speed but I could feel she didn't want to fly. We were approaching the far end of the runway at frightening speed until, with only yards to go, I managed to ease her off the ground. I have vivid memories of seeing seaweed clad rocks flashing by at what seemed like cockpit level before climbing speed was attained. Once the adrenaline had stopped flowing I could look around and find the cause of the apparent shortage of power - it was simple enough - finger trouble. During the debrief the nav. admitted that he had been so frightened at the accumulation of disaster points before we left Thorney that he had seriously thought of refusing to fly and reporting sick. "Mind you" he said, "I knew you were trying to scare me on that last takeoff" Little did he know!!

We converted onto Meteor night fighters towards the end of my tour. The job was the same but in the Meteor NF14 the nav. sat behind the pilot instead of alongside. The Meteor was an old friend and a familiar aeroplane, I was the most experienced Meteor pilot there and for me the conversion consisted of little more than a refamiliarisation flight. I had not long to go now until the end of my tour and I was sorry that the Meteor hadn't come earlier. One of my last formation displays was at a Royal Air Force Association (RAFA) day on Guernsey in the Channel Islands.

For some reason that I cannot recall, we were despatched to Guernsey in one of the Valettas the day before the show. This proved to be little more than a day out for most of us to sample the fleshpots and delights of Guernsey I think the plan was for us to give the organisers a hand but we had different plans; the Valetta pilot put it very succinctly "I don't know where you sods went off to", he said "By the time I'd shut the aircraft down and got the switches off you lot were legging it across the tarmac, the nearest backside in RAF blue was two hundred yards away and running, you left me with all the work to do" More important to us, during our foray around the island one of the boys made a contact. She had a car, we had wheels, we were "in".

The car in question was an Austin A35. We returned to Thorney Island in the Valetta and flew back to Guernsey the next day in the Meteors to do the show and nightstop. After the display, Fiona met us in the car. There were nine aircrew spread amongst five Meteors on the tarmac at Guernsey airport; somehow, don't ask me how, we all managed to get into the A35. It was quite a squeeze. The suspension was at rock bottom and every bump caused yells of agony. My rib cage felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice, I don't think we could all breathe in at the same time. The car was very unstable with all the weight it was carrying and wallowed and rolled alarmingly. Eventually, of course, we were stopped by the police, this worthy officer standing amazed as body after body extricated itself from the vehicle and gathered in a group around him. The policemen had his notebook out and was interviewing the driver. There was a bit of an altercation going on because Fiona wasn't driving her car, one of the boys was, and they were trying to explain to the constable why he was driving her car and why she was sitting on his lap at the time. There we were, nine RAF officers in full uniform standing at the roadside with a police officer with his notebook out. One of us looked at the other, who looked at another. Nothing was said but the rapport between us was fantastic. As one we all took to our heels in different directions like naughty schoolboys. Having visions of the police combing the island looking for RAF officers in uniform I went straight to the hotel and changed into civvies. We were supposed to remain in uniform as guests of honour of the RAFA, various parties had been organised. The prospect of having a party in a police cell didn't appeal one bit, discretion was the better part of valour in my opinion.

There was to be no getting away from it. This time, at the end of my flying tour, I was destined for a ground job. Sure enough, when my posting came through, there it was. I was posted as a Flight Commander to the Initial Training School (ITS) at RAF South Cerney, near Cirencester in Gloucestershire. Set a thief to catch a thief, I suppose. Now I was going to be involved in teaching Officer Cadets how to become "Officers and Gentlemen".

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Empennage

Alan D.

Esteemed and significant acquaintances:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practised within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious Persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

May you have a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2000, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Britain great, without prejudging any other country, nor inferring or implying that this is the only Britain in the western hemisphere, and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or sexual orientation of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise of the wisher to actually implement the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.

This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and said warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

Love, peace and associated products.

• • • • •

Well, what can I say; The end of an Era. I want to thank everyone who’s helped out with the newsletter and contributed over the years. In the main, I’ve enjoyed doing it although it sometimes gets a bit fraught when it doesn’t quite go as smooth as it could. I think everyone agrees it’s something that’s worthwhile and I for one (going to live away from the area) wouldn’t like to see it finish once I’ve left. Someone, or maybe several people, must want to take over the reigns? With modern technology anyone can make it look good, but at the end of the day it’s the content that matters and everyone else can provide that, it just takes someone to pull it all together and get it onto paper – the relatively easy bit. Give it a go! Please…

Sorry this issue’s been a bit thin but it had to be rushed out in time for the AGM and before I left.

See you around
Alan D.

p.s.Thanks to Roy Partington for sending me the new year greeting – you might have guessed it’s not an original work!

Alan Dennis, No fixed abode, Tel: 07880 850144 (mobile)

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25 February 2000

Dear Member,

Annual General Meeting

The 2000 A.G.M. will be held in the Clubhouse on Sunday 30th April commencing at 7.30 p.m. In the event that it is not flyable it will be brought forward to 3pm. Please telephone the mobile (0860 135447) on the day if you are unsure what time it will be starting.

The agenda will be strictly as follows;

1.    Apologies for absence.

2.    Minutes of the 1999 A.G.M.

3.    Matters Arising.

4.    Receive and approve annual accounts for 1998-99

5.    Officers reports for year 1999-2000.

6.    Election of officers for year 2000-2001.

7.    Election of committee for year 2000-2001.

8.    Election of directors.

9.    Motion: to appoint either an independent professional accountant or an internal auditor (Peter Redshaw/Alan Dennis)

10.    Any other business relevant to the A.G.M.

Nominations for officers should be addressed to the secretary in advance of the meeting. For fuller details of the motions prior to the meeting, please contact the proposer or seconder shown.

On Behalf of the Committee

Alan Dennis

Secretary, Lakes Gliding Club

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